She twirled the thong around her finger. "What do I do with this now, oh wise one."Jack grinned and propped the cigarette in his mouth, speaking around it. "Give it here." He held out his hand, palm facing upwards, fingers wiggling in encouragement.Before she had the opportunity to think her actions through, Catherine reached out and dropped the tiny bundle of lace in his hand. Her mouth gaped when he fashioned it into a slingshot and launched it into the darkness of the garden. A shocked laugh tore from her. She clapped a hand over her mouth. "Now," Jack pulled the cigarette from between his lips and regarded her with shining eyes, "Sit back down and flick a few buttons open on that blouse. You look like my fucking mother wearing buttoned-up beige."Glee spread through Catherine, overshadowing her surprise at his taunts. The freedom of being out in the garden, uninhibited, with a man she held a great affection for, was nothing short of exhilarating. She'd never felt so carefree. Two more weeks passed. It was the Easter Weekend, and I wondered if Gary’s little excursion into cuckoldry had foundered. Then on the Friday of Easter Week she phoned me.“He’s going to the match tomorrow,” she said, and waited.“You want to meet?” I asked.“I’d like to see you, just to sit and chat,” she said. “I can tell him we had a hot whole afternoon while he was enjoying himself. I want to push him by seeing you for longer.”“Come round to my place,” I said. “I’ve nothing on tomorrow.”“I’ll be fully dressed,” she flirted, and laughed. It was a exaggeratedly dirty laugh and I realised my double entendre. I told her I was disappointed, which evinced a further ribald giggle.She was so beautiful when she arrived. She was wearing a short, short skirt, no tights and a crop top revealing a bare midriff and an adorable navel. She closed the front door behind her, turned and kissed my lips briefly.“Hi!” she said looking me up and down. “You decided to get dressed then?”“I thought it bad.
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